The Sins of the Father
by Wrexscar
Summary: Not everyone is as forgiving as Harry. A revenge quest starting in the year 2042. Focusing on a new character and his interactions with our familiar crew. A 2 parter 10k words total.
1. Chapter 1

The Sins of the Father.

Disclaimer: This is a work of FanFiction set within the Harry Potter universe. As such all characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling and this work is not being produced for commercial gain.

Warning: This work is rated **M** for readers over the age of 16. The rating is because of themes. The content will be dark but not explicit. Please read A.N. at end of chapter for a more detailed warning.

There will be major character death and this tale contains alternative character interpretation.

Chapter One

**2042**

Mike headed down the dimly lit corridor of Hogwarts's fourth floor pausing to study the map in his hands. His target was on his usual rounds for this time of night. Mike had watched him on the map over the last several weeks and had learnt his routine; now it was time to put what he had learnt into practice.

He paused slightly in a recess, close to the junction of one of the school's main corridors. He watched first on the map, and then in reality as his target passed him. He did not look in Mike's direction at all.

With one last check of the map to see that no one else was around, Mike stepped out behind his target.

"Petrificus Totalus."

He lowered his wand as his target stood rigid in front of him. He was careful to stay out of the line of sight of his target – there was no need to take chances, after all, and the next thing he tried was going to be very risky.

"Imperio." The spell struck; now to test its effects. He removed the body bind. "Take off your glasses, Professor Longbottom, and leave them on the window sill."

He watched in amazement and a kind of giddy excitement as the professor did as he was instructed.

"If they are found and returned to you, Professor, I want you to keep putting them down and forgetting where they are. In five minutes' time, continue your rounds and forget this conversation ever happened."

Mike headed off towards his dorm. It was a small thing he had done tonight, with no real impact. In time, everyone would think a little less of Neville, but as a Hero of Hogwarts and Deputy Head, guaranteed the headmaster's job when Vector retired, he had quite enough people thinking highly of him anyway.

However, it was also a massive thing he had achieved: Imperiusing Neville Longbottom, the man who had defied Voldemort to his face. Mike knew from his research in the Restricted Section that once someone was used to doing little things under the Imperius Curse, he would do bigger things, eventually going contrary to his nature with little fight. Still, it was obvious that Neville had been treading on his reputation for too long. _Let's see how he handles the next phase of the plan_.

Mike headed back up the spiral staircase to the Ravenclaw common room, answering the doorknocker's question without hesitation. He checked the map to see if anyone was within. He was several hours past curfew and, while he was a prefect, he would still have to answer to that annoying Portia Malfoy if she found him sneaking in. Thankfully, only Harriet was in there. It often amazed him how dissimilar the two cousins were.

"Mischief managed," he said, folding the map up and slipping it into a pocket.

As he entered the common room, Harriet rose from the chair she was sitting in and stalked towards him. Her red hair caught the light, and her lithe body transfixed him. Her green eyes burned with curiosity. Her mouth opened to ask Mike a question, but he leaned in and kissed her before she could utter a word. The tension he had been holding on to all evening finally released. When the kiss finally ended, Harriet spoke first.

"Wow! I take it everything went according to plan."

"Oh, yes, your map is still fully accurate. I was able to follow Professor Neville all evening. The old fool had no idea I was there. I think his reputation is overrated."

Mark refrained from telling Harriet about Imperiusing Neville. While she was the black sheep of the Potter-Weasley clan, she would never go along with Mike's plan. Still, she had come a long way from when Mike had first met her. Back then, she had been all bitterness but with no direction to vent it.

He gently pulled her down beside him onto a sofa, thinking back to when she had first sat next to him.

**2038**

He had been sitting in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, watching the first years enter. It was the first time that he watched the sorting from this side. The majority of the first years looked around the hall with wonder in their eyes; one girl, however, looked around with cool indifference. It wasn't quite the hostility that he had tried to keep from his expression the first time he saw the hall, but she certainly didn't look happy to be here.

He had ended up sitting next to Portia at the feast and for once was quite grateful for it. Nudging her, he asked, "Which one of your cousins is that, Malfoy?"

"Just because she has ginger hair doesn't automatically mean we are related."

Mike just snorted in answer to that.

"If you must know, she's my Aunt Lily's daughter Harriet."

"Oh, great, just what we need: another Harriet." Mike turned to Dave Chadwick on the other side of him. "What's the current ratio of Harrys to Harriets at the moment?"

Dave looked to the roof in thought. "Well, with last year's exit and not knowing the firsties' names yet, we're on 12: 7 Harrys to Harriets."

Portia bristled as they talked and was about to say something when the hat burst into song. After the hat had finishing singing, the first year sorting began.

Mike was fairly indifferent to the sorting; the Weasleys would all come at the end, and he'd take note of them and anyone else that Portia mentioned as a relative. Halfway through the sorting, Mike watched Harriet be called forward.

"Potter, Harriet." Professor Longbottom called her out of the diminishing ranks to a surprised whisper from the tables.

"I thought you said her mum was related to you?" Mike asked of Portia.

"She is, hush."

Mike inwardly seethed at her attitude yet again but kept his mouth shut. She would get hers one day, her and all she held dear, but not now.

The hall fell into silence, as Harriet was proving difficult to sort. Mike watched her lips move as she held a conversation with the hat. He took a sip of his drink and almost spat it back out when he clearly saw Harriet's lips move and seem to say, "Put me into bloody Gryffindor and I'll come back with a box of matches."

There was a slight pause, and then the hat shouted, "Ravenclaw!"

Portia waved Harriet over and made a space for her. Mike moved in the other direction; at least now he had a buffer zone between himself and Portia. Harriet sat down in the now vacant space; she looked first at the table in front of her, then turned so that her back was to Portia and she was facing Mike.

"Can you believe that bloody hat wanted to put me in Gryffindor?"

"Language, Harriet," Portia interjected.

Harriet ignored her and continued to speak to Mike. "As if it isn't bad enough being Harriet bloody Potter at Hogwarts, but to be in Gryffindor as well. I might as well dye my hair black and carve a lightning bolt into my head."

Mike wasn't certain what he found more amusing: the girl's words or Portia's face every time she was ignored.

"Harriet, that is quite enough of that," Portia finally interjected.

"Oh, do shut up, Malfoy. Do I need to tell you that it was my granny who invented the bat bogey hex, and yours just made a bag for carrying more books? You're not my mother. You're not even a close relative. We only see each other at family gatherings now and then, so for the last bloody time, bugger off, Malfoy. "

Mike watched Portia's face change colour faster than a set of lights at an all night rave before she turned her back on them and returned to talking to her friends.

**2042**

"What are you smiling about?" asked Harriet.

Mike pulled her onto his knee. "Just remembering the look on Portia's face that first time we met. I knew we had a big future together then. I'm glad I was right."

After some time kissing and cuddling, the couple reluctantly separated and headed off to their respective dorms.

Mike found sleep hard to come by tonight. He had been planning since he had found out about this world and his heritage, but tonight was the first time he had taken action. In one way, it was appropriate that the first step involved Neville Longbottom. He was the man who had introduced him to this world, after all.

**2037**

Mike was sitting in his bedroom, watching his latest videos, when the icon started flashing for a call from his mum. He briefly considered ignoring it, but the last time he had ignored a call from his mum, she had blocked his web access. It had taken him at least two hours to hack his way around that, and it would only take a moment to speak to her. He allowed his vision to focus on the icon of the call and double-blinked it. His mum's face filled his vision and, from his perspective, his bedroom on his augmented reality display.

"Mike, we need you downstairs. There is a visitor here and we have something important you need to hear about."

Mike didn't have time to answer. His vision briefly returned to normal before the AR Vid kicked back in. He blinked and shut down the display. Walking downstairs while watching a vid took skill, which Mike had, but making it look natural enough to fool his mum was beyond him. He briefly considered taking out the contacts but felt his mum would be ok with that, provided he didn't switch them back on.

Downstairs, he was met by his father and a man in very formal clothes. He was dressed in an immaculate three piece suit in a black pinstripe. Mike glanced across to his dad, who only bothered to wear a shirt and tie when the full board was meeting.

Tom met his son's look and shook his head to let him know not to ask any questions.

Mike looked around to see his mum enter the living room. He was struck by how pale she looked this morning. Wisely, he didn't comment on that. He might have only been ten, but he knew better than to tell his mum she looked awful.

"Thank you for your time, Mr and Mrs Jones, and you, too, Michael." The man turned to make eye contact with each of them as he spoke. "I'm Professor Longbottom, and I represent Hogwarts School. We would like to offer Michael a place at our institution. "

While Mike was intrigued by this man's offer, his mum's reaction was starting to worry him. She had paled even further and had her hand in front of her face to stifle a sob.

Finally, she spoke. "Thank you, Professor, for your offer. We will need to discuss this in private and let you know our response. There will probably be follow up questions, too. How soon and in what way should we contact you?"

"We like replies by the end of July, but there are things that I think you should know about Hogwarts to help inform your decision."

Mike had run a quick search while his mum was talking and was surprised to find no results. Everything had some results these days. Mike had even tried entering nonsense words in the engine when he was younger and got a surprisingly large number of hits for those. Eventually, he got a hit on a veterinary web site, but he was pretty sure that wasn't what the professor was inviting him to join.

He turned his attention again to his mum.

"I know of your school, and I would like to discuss the implications of this offer with my family, in private. I am sure we will inform of our decision in the fullness of time."

Professor Longbottom got the dismissal in his mum's statement and politely excused himself. Mike looked over at his dad, who shook his head in bewilderment.

Mike thought back over the rest of that day. His gran arrived with the news that she was a witch, and it looked as if he had the ability to be a wizard. It had skipped a generation; his mum was something that was called a squib. Then there were the other facts, the ones Mike was not supposed to hear once his gran had left and his parents thought they were alone. He had left a wireless transmitter running in the sitting room and headed upstairs to watch some shows on the AR. He connected to the device and listened in to his mum's explanations. It was his future they would be discussing, he rationalised.

His mum had never told his dad about magic because she thought it would never affect them. Squibs and muggles didn't have magical children; it was unheard of. Then there was the fact that his gran had turned her back on the magical world once his mum had been born. Finally, there was the planet-shifting fact, the one that altered Mike's whole life.

There had been a war in that world. When all looked lost, when the time was darkest, Mike's gran had been treated as a slave, as vermin. They had called her a Mudblood and had used her as they wanted. One of the men whose house she was cleaning had noticed her and had raped her. Mike's mum was the result of this act of violence, which was why the very existence of this world was one his mum and gran had hoped to leave behind.

Mike closed the link. Listening to his parents in tears was a difficult thing for him to cope with, but it was then the fire in him had started. Sometimes it burned white hot; other times it was an ember that he protected and nourished. He had sworn vengeance then on the man who had committed that act and the world he had come from.

**2042**

He tossed and turned in his bed again. He wished Harriet was with him; she had the ability to get him to be still. How ironic, he considered, that he had fallen for the granddaughter of one of the men on whom he had vowed to gain revenge.

**2037**

He spent much of his first year in Hogwarts working away in the library, as a good Ravenclaw should. He looked through modern history books and cross referenced newspapers and even gossip magazines. He eventually found the name he was after: Lucius Malfoy. In the reconciliation hearings, he had been ordered to pay his grandmother, Jessica Tilden, a hundred Galleons for her forced labour in his house during the Dark Days, as they were now known.

Lucius had escaped prison by paying his restitution and testifying that a few of his friends had been as bad as he had been. Harry Potter himself stood and testified on his behalf; that, more than anything, kept him out of prison.

Mike punched his pillow in frustration. That Lucius had died before he had a chance to get revenge. He had died when he was 80 – a young age for a wizard, but it seemed that working for a dark lord who Crucioed for the slightest fault affected your health. Still, Harry Potter, who had spoken on Lucius's behalf, had become Mike's new target for hatred, along with Draco, who by all accounts was as bad as his father had been. So they were his targets: one the grandfather of the girl he spent all his classes with, the other the grandfather of the girl he spent his free time with.

However, as he read all he could, he began to understand that it was not just them at fault: it was the whole society they represented. A place where privilege and prestige counted more than the rule of law.

So, Mike had decided, it would all have to go. Whether he would replace it with anything would be a different matter. He had looked at this society with an outsider's eye and seen it for what it was.

**2042**

Mike watched in amusement as over the next month Professor Longbottom never seemed to have his glasses. He had proven now that he the strength of will to dominate someone else: time to take it to another level.

He Imperiused Neville two more times. Both were petty little things. The first was a compulsion to start over-eating, the next, an instruction to ignore hygiene issues. As Neville was still Herbology Professor, it didn't take long for that last instruction to have an effect. Soon people were starting to avoid him, staff and pupils alike.

A week following that last instruction, Mike noticed with use of the map that Neville was staying in the castle on a night he usually returned home to be with his wife.

Mike slipped out of the dorm and, using the map, stalked his target. Thankfully, it was easy to find him alone now. Not many people appreciated the smell of dragon dung fertiliser. Mike just needed a couple of minutes with no witnesses.

After watching and waiting for an hour, Mike saw Neville walking slowly away from his offices. It was past curfew and there were no prefect patrols near. Hurrying down an intersecting corridor, Mike saw and smelt his target.

"Imperio."

Neville stood still as the spell took effect.

"Follow me, Professor." Consulting the map, Mike led Neville to a seldom-used classroom. Thankfully, the house elves kept it free from dust and there were no portraits within it.

"Now, Professor, we shall talk freely and truthfully. You shall make no attempt to communicate with anyone but me and you shall attempt no means magical or mundane to stop me. "

Neville's eyes brightened slightly and he sniffed, as he was able to smell himself for the first time. "Why are you doing this? You are using an Unforgiveable Curse for playing pranks. When you are caught, this will be beyond expulsion. You will face prison time for this."

"Is that so, Professor? I can think of many cases where the Unforgivables have been easily forgiven. We've read in the history books how your good friend Harry Imperiused a guard to get into Gringotts. Lucius Malfoy used all three Unforgiveables but got away with a slap on the wrist. I think the law should be anyone who Harry Potter doesn't like can't use them. Well, I'm dating his granddaughter and I make her happy, so it is okay for me to use them."

"It's not like that anymore. We have a rule of law now."

"Shut up!"

Neville instantly stopped speaking on Mike's command.

"I don't know why I'm even talking to you." Mike paused to gather himself. "Neville Longbottom, you will leave this place and go directly to the Black Lake. Once there, you shall start to swim, exactly as you are dressed now. You will not stop to communicate with anyone, and you will keep on swimming until you can't swim anymore. Do you understand?"

"Yes." Neville answered in a dull voice, and the glassiness was back in his eyes.

"Before you go, Neville, any regrets?"

Neville's personality returned to his body. "Yes. I regret my last words to Hannah were an argument about how bad I smelt."

"Go, Neville, and carry out your instructions."

Damn, Mike regretted asking that last question. Better to think of the victims as supporters of a regime that had to change than as people. He couldn't head back to the dorm until he had composed himself; if Harriet saw him, she would know something had gone wrong and ask awkward questions. Thankfully, she didn't know he was out tonight. It would be a little hard to admit he had just sent someone she called Uncle Nev to his death.

There was a week of mourning in Hogwarts leading up to Neville's funeral and service of remembrance.

The front row of mourners featured Neville's wife, Hannah; the Minister of Magic, Susan Finch-Fletchley; and head of the DMLE, Harry Potter, and his wife. Mike watched the elite of society as they mourned the first of their number to be brought down by him.

He kept a sober expression on his face, knowing that before the day was out he would be introduced to Harry. This would be their second meeting, although being introduced as the boyfriend of his granddaughter would probably make this a bit more memorable than their first.

Mike was polite to Harry and Ginny when introduced. Surprisingly, Harry did remember him.

**2040**

They sat in the defence classroom. This was one that the upper years always talked about: the Unforgivables lesson. Muroidea Norvegicus entered the classroom first, followed by Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter.

"Good morning, class. I'm sure you know what today's lesson is, so allow me to introduce Harry Potter, head of the DMLE, who will be teaching today's lesson, and Professor Longbottom, who you all know. He will be supervising."

Harry stepped forward to begin the lesson. "Thank you. I hesitate to ask so simple a question of third year Ravenclaws, but can anyone name the three Unforgiveables?"

As usual, Portia's hand was up first. After she correctly answered the question, Harry asked his follow-up question.

"Does anyone know why these three spells are classed as Unforgiveable?"

There were a few guesses, but no one was correct. Harry continued.

"It is to do with intent. If you cast your mind back to when you were taught Wingardium Leviosa: Professor Flitwick, a Charms master, could make his feather dance around the room, while you all; struggled to make it float on your first effort. Well we did in my first class. He used the same words and the same gesture, but his intent was a bit more dramatic. All magic relies on your intent, the Unforgiveables more than most.

"I once tried to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Bella Lestrange. She had just killed my godfather, and we were fighting for our lives. I was intent on punishing her. She laughed off my attempt. She also explained why they are listed as Unforgiveable.

"You have to really hate to cast the Cruciatus Curse on someone. Anger doesn't do it; you must want them to suffer, you have to be the sort of person who enjoys the suffering you bring, because if you hesitate for a second, it won't work.

"The same applies to the Killing Curse. There are plenty of spells to kill someone, many of which we teach you as students. A Reducto or Diffindo, used wrongly, will kill. But so will this chair if I beat you with it. The Killing Curse, however, has only one purpose: to end life. I've heard arguments that we should allow doctors to use it to ease suffering in the terminally ill. Again, this is rubbish. You can't cast the killing spell with compassion. The intent has to be one of snuffing out someone's life. Of completely holding a person's life in your power and ending it.

I will not be demonstrating either of those two spells to you today. I don't wish to become the sort of person who can cast them.

The Imperius Curse, I will be demonstrating. At first glance, the Imperius Curse is a lesser evil than the others. But to cast the Imperius Curse is to completely dominate someone's self-will. A strong enough person can force the person to then go on and commit acts completely contrary to their nature. Is the person trying to kill you a willing recruit, or as much a victim as you are?"

Harry then demonstrated the Imperius Curse on a spider, which he made to do an eight-legged tap dance. Then, one by one, he cast the Imperius Curse on the class.

When it was Mike's turn, he felt a strange lethargy overcome him, then an overwhelming desire to do a handstand. _But why?_ he asked himself, and as soon as he asked that question, he knew. As soon as he knew, he resisted.

"Sorry, Harry, I'd rather stay on my feet."

**2042**

"Do you know how many third years can throw off my Imperius Curse? Of course I remember you."

Harry turned to Harriet. "This one has a bright future ahead of him, Harriet. It's good to see you two together. It's times like this that remind us how fragile life is. Now you've done your duty and spoken to the relatives; go and walk the grounds and enjoy the sunshine."

**2054**

Mike had been married to Harriet for seven years, and he had been head hunted by the Department of Mysteries when he had left Hogwarts. Mike and Harriet had decided to put off having children, unlike most of their peers, who had children within the first year of marriage.

Mike had put his plots on hold for the time being. Although, he had recently visited the head of the Scottish military to suggest a new area of research to him.

To be told that the head of the DMLE was taking an interest in his career was worrying. To marry into the family of a man you had vowed revenge on was downright stupid. Still, he truly loved Harriet and they were happy together. She was an absolute genius in potions and had taken up a research role in WWW. The family business had left its joke shop origins behind many years ago. Although the joke shop was still a branch of its business, it had now become the cutting edge of new innovations in the world, wizarding and Muggle alike.

The real money, it had been discovered, was in selling a new version of the Pepper-Up Potion to Muggles as an energy drink. George and Ron were currently involved in a takeover attempt of Red Bull.

Harriet was heading the team that ensured the products would be safe to sell to non-magicals. Harriet had initially refused the job, but she was coming to terms with the fact that she had been employed on merit, not on family connections. This had been finally hammered home upon receiving her last bonus for finding a way to alter down the cure of the common cold so that it was still effective, but safe to sell to the Muggle world. In fact, she and Mike could have retired and lived comfortably for the rest of their lives on the proceeds of that one bonus, but they both enjoyed their jobs and had settled into a calm routine.

Mike had met with Harry many times since leaving Hogwarts. Married to Harriet, he had visited Harry's home on numerous occasions. They had argued politics on many occasions until Harriet had begged for peace. Mike blamed Harry more than most for upholding the status quo. For allowing Lucius to go unpunished and for not using his influence to create a fairer, more equitable society.

He no longer hated him as he had done when he had found out he was the man who had allowed Lucius to go free. But he would still have to go.

Partially as punishment, but also because he was one of the old guard who now held society to such an old-fashioned course. Harry could have forged a bright new path. Hermione had tried, but Harry had just accepted the system and allowed it to return as it had been.

Still, not for much longer. The Polyjuice Potion was prepared. He had endless hairs from Harriet he could use.

He hesitated over using Harriet this way, but she was at work in a busy lab, so he rationalised that she had a perfect alibi in case there was any suspicion. He would use a public floo from Diagon Alley so that he would be unlikely to be traced.

The only thing pleasant about taking the potion was the taste. The process of transformation was horrendous. The effects of the sex change had him throwing up and in agony. Checking his watch, he realised he was out of time. He had spent most of his hour curled up either in pain or throwing up.

That was a hell of a way to find out your wife was pregnant: morning sickness as you took her form.

He tried again the next day, taking a hair off a jacket she hadn't worn for a couple of months. He changed in the bathroom of their house, quickly dressed in an outfit that he knew Harriet favoured and then apparated to Diagon Alley.

"Hi, Grinny, can I come through?"

Grinny was a cross between Granny and Ginny that Harriet had used since she was a little girl.

Once he was in the Potters' house, Mike looked around the sitting room. The photos of the three children dotted around the room told tales of sadness to those who could look beyond the obvious.

James stood tall and proud, but always alone. His need to prove himself, to fulfil the expectation that everyone had of him, had never allowed him time to settle down.

Albus's photos of him and his wife Marie stood still, as they were not wizarding photos. Albus had left the wizarding world behind once he had finished his rather mediocre OWLs. He was a self-employed plumber, having enrolled in a technology college at sixteen. He had a well-established little business now. But there was sadness in his eyes. He and his wife had never had children. Albus's fear of the celebrity life he had grown up with had kept him from inflicting that on another generation.

The photos of Lily and Harriet told their own story. Lily had only married Harrriet's father as she was pregnant. The marriage had ended in divorce before Harriet was a year old.

While Mike looked around, Ginny got some tea together in kitchen. Very few wizarding families had elves these days. They nearly all worked for a branch of WWW run by Hermione: she ensured the elves had enough work to keep them happy, but were treated with respect and had fair conditions.

As Ginny stepped into the room, Mike hit her with an Imperius Curse. He gave her the instructions he wanted carried out, left her the collar and flooed back to Diagon Alley.

The next morning, Mike was at work when James came to see him. James was grey faced, and his eyes looked haunted.

"I need a favour of you, Mike. This is breaking half a dozen rules of procedure, but can you look at this for me?" The disgust was plain to hear in James's voice as he spoke. James dropped what looked upon first glance a small leather belt on his desk.

Mike recognised it at once. He had, after all, purchased it while disguised as Harry several months ago from a sleazy little shop in Knockturn Alley. He had seen it just yesterday when he left it with Ginny.

After first casting some diagnostic charms on it, Mike then picked it up and began to visually inspect it.

"Okay, what we have here is a self-tightening belt. But it's slightly damaged: could be wear, or bad manufacturing standards." Or the fact that Mike had spent some time deliberately making it look that way. "There is a rune here that has faded. That would have stopped the belt once it was tight. As it is now, whoever put this on would practically be cut in two. Was anyone injured using this, James?"

James, with a look of sadness on his face, answered in a quiet voice. "My father was found with this around his neck this morning. Mum called me immediately on finding him."

James's expression hardened and his voice took on a warning quality. "As it is now, only you, me and my mother know the truth. Don't tell anyone. Not Albus, not Lily, not even Harriet. As it stands now, he just passed peacefully in his sleep. That is the way we will keep it."

Mike sympathised: it must have been hard for James, who idolised his father, to find him wearing just a self-tightening collar.

James threw the collar into Mike's metal bin and cast Incendio until the belt burnt to a crisp. Mike was torn. On one hand, he hated the old families ignoring the rules for their own benefit. On the other, to have the current head of the Aurors and likely future head of the DMLE help cover up his most audacious murder was no bad thing.

It was a week after Harry's funeral that Mike's other instructions to Ginny became clear. The note she left ambiguously stated that she could no longer live with the guilt.

Her death was definitely not ambiguous; she took her old racing broom and flew it straight up until air and magic ran out. Her fall was spectacular and her impact messy. Mike rather regretted Ginny's death, and if he had known that James would help him in the cover-up of Harry's death, he probably wouldn't have told her to commit suicide. The manner of her death surprised even him. Still, she always had a melodramatic bent.

A.N.

**Mature content warning. **

This story features amongst others things. Subduing peoples will and forcing them to commit acts out of character. (The Imperius charm) Impersonation and gender swap. (Polyjuice potion) Murder and major character death. Also within the back-story, rape will have been committed. I will not go beyond that level of detail in the story to write about the act. There will be major character death and this tale contains alternative character interpretation. After all I'm writing fanfiction, if everything was exactly the same as the books there would be no need to write it.

Part 2 coming soon.

Thanks again for Jedi Goat casting her strange force like powers over this and sorting out my scatter gun approach to punctuation.


	2. Chapter 2

The Sins of the Father. 2

Disclaimer: This is a work of FanFiction set within the Harry Potter universe. As such all characters and locations belong to J.K. Rowling and this work is not being produced for commercial gain.

Warning: This work is rated **M** for readers over the age of 16. The rating is because of themes. The content will be dark but not explicit.

There will be major character death and this tale contains alternative character interpretation.

_Chapter 2_

**2065**

Mike's final phase of his plan was now ready to put into operation.

It was handy being an Unspeakable. Nobody ever bothered you, no matter what you were working on. The wards in the Ministry all failed on schedule. Mike checked his watch. The majority of day staff would have left the building by now. Only the dedicated and those departments that were manned twenty-four hours a day would be in.

This would now be his most audacious move. Starting the fire. He apparated into the lower courtrooms. First he had to check that the wards were down, and this was an area he knew was free from people.

He cast his spell, watched it take hold, then apparated back to his office.

Mike stumbled into the house, dirty and smelling of smoke. Harriet hugged him as he walked through the door. Mike could see little Jessica in tears, watching, so he beckoned her over. Although, at eleven, he would never dare call her "little Jessica" to her face.

"It's okay. I'm home, I'm safe."

Mike took comfort from his family's hug.

It had been a hell of a night. He should have known better, really, but fiendfyre had its advantages. It was unstoppable once it was allowed to run free. It also had its downside, mostly that it was unstoppable once it was allowed to run free.

"Shh, now, it wasn't that bad. Whoever took down the wards to start that fire did us a favour. They took down the anti-apparition wards. I'm sure everyone got out."

Mike had popped through most of the floors himself to check to see if anyone was left behind. He also started some extra fires to ensure the place burnt. This explained the charred smell he gave off. He didn't want any innocents hurt, although he knew there would be some. It was the Ministry he wanted gone.

That had been proven to him many times. The Ministry and their society was too big to change. It had to go. So go it would. This was just the first of tonight's acts. The second might even be more spectacular than burning down the Ministry.

He had been actively planning this for some time now. The first thing he had done was to track down the head of the Scottish military forces. He'd easily Imperiused him and told him to focus military research on precision cluster bomb technology.

The weapons they had come up with were a variant on the bunker bombs that had been developed years before. The new weapon would fragment into bomblets: each one was designed to impact and bury itself before exploding. This would ensure that all the explosive force would be directed straight up. In theory, this meant the Scots would be able to completely destroy chosen buildings and leave neighbouring ones standing. The bombs were all wirelessly connected to each other and could be pre-programmed for the exact shape of the structure.

Today, the 31st of July, was the day of the first test on a full structure. Mike had spent some time with chief of staff, influencing them over which building to choose. It was ideal. It was, as far as anyone in the Scottish Government could tell, an abandoned castle with no listed owner. It hadn't been categorised by any heritage body as of special importance. There were no communities nearby, so even if the aim was off, no one would be injured.

While Mike and other magic users in the country knew it by the name of Hogwarts, to the Scottish military, it was danger zone test site 1A, and the planes were already underway.

Mike remembered the first time he had seen it, floating across the lake under the care of Charlie Weasley. The rest of the first years gasped in awe; even Mike had to admit it was an impressive sight, but while everyone else babbled in excitement, he just stared at the castle in determination. This was the place where Tom Riddle had killed his first victim, where the Malfoys and the rest had learnt their dark magic and sat happily together planning their little blood coup. It had to go. Too much blood had been spilt because of what had been learnt here. Mike had come to the only sane conclusion: it had to go.

As a Muggle-born and a senior Unspeakable, Mike had a visit from Scorpius Malfoy, the current Minister of Magic, asking him if he would head the team that visited Hogwarts's remains. The fact that a Malfoy had been made Minister of Magic had sealed Mike's determination. He would ensure the sins of the father visited the third and fourth generations.

The combination of all the magical devices within Hogwarts and normal explosives had, Scorpius admitted, made the choice easy. They had kept the news from the media, for the time being, to stop widespread panic.

James Potter had kept the bulk of his Aurors to go through the remains of the Ministry, looking for clues and bodies.

Poor James: the deaths of his family had hit him hard. All he had now was work, and it looked as if that would be soon taken from him.

"How do I find you to report?" he asked Scorpius.

"I'm currently using one of the larger rooms in the back of the Leaky Cauldron. I imagine once everyone gets organised you'll be reporting to someone else. If I could find someone to resign to, I would."

Scorpius put his head in his hands. "I've had some rough days before, I admit. But Hogwarts and the Ministry both gone, and in the space of twenty-four hours."

Scorpius looked Mike in the eye, and Mike could see his eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. "I don't know if we'll recover from this. I really don't. If some new dark lord is waiting to swoop in, we'd never get organised to stop him. This could be the end of our society. I just don't understand it. The last two dark lords, Riddle and Dennis, wanted to rule through what was already there. Whoever is behind this just seems to want everything to burn." Scorpius's voice trailed off as talked.

Mike suppressed his smile when anyone mentioned the Dark Lord Dennis, as the prophet tended to call him. It was frustration that Colin's sacrifice had not really changed anything that had caused Dennis to lash out at the Pure Bloods. Still it was a lesson that Mike had learnt from. Don't try to usurp, but to stand back and watch it burn.

"Anyway, Mike, get yourself organised, go up there and report back to me. Then prepare a written report for whoever I'm replaced by." Scorpius excused himself and apparated away.

While Mike was heartened by Scorpius' verdict that this might be the end of wizarding society, he always felt guilt when he looked his victims in the eye. Scorpius had been hurt more than most by Mike's plots.

**2056**

Mike had left Harriet talking to one of her many cousins. Weasley family get-togethers should come with a spotter card so you could tell one redhead from another. There was one, however, that Mike was looking for in particular.

He asked if he could join him when he found him sitting alone, drinking Firewhiskey.

"Sit down. Mike, isn't it?"

Mike nodded in agreement and joined Ron.

"Hermione would tell me I have no tact, but I think it's better to ask than to spend half the evening calling you by the wrong name. You were, if memory serves, in the same year as Portia and are now married to Harriet."

"Well recognised, sir."

"None of that. We're all family here, although there are so many in-laws someone could wander in off the street and we'd never tell. "

"Yes, they even let Malfoys in these days."

Ron's face darkened. "They've been doing that since my damn fool daughter married Scorpius. Means I have to pretend to be nice when I meet Draco. Still I'm richer than him these days, so that's nice. "

"Harriet has told me some stories; do you still dislike him then?" Mike learned forward to hear Ron's reply.

"Let's put it this way: if I had my way, it would have taken more than one moment of kindness off Narcissus to get that family forgiveness. Lucius would have been sent to the Dementors, and Draco would have got life in Azkaban."

Mike was starting to warm to Ron. He should have remembered the first rule: never get chatty with your victims. Leaning forward to pour Ron a drink, he pulled out his wand.

"Imperio. Ron Weasley, next time you see Draco, I want you to kill him. Any way you want. Do not speak of this instruction to anyone, ever. If they ask you why, tell them 'Because I always wanted to'. "

Ron nodded woodenly.

"More whiskey, Ron?" Mike asked.

"I'd better not. I blanked out there for a second."

It took until a New Year's party in Malfoy Manor for Ron to carry out his instructions. The Prophet splashed the news all over its front page, much as Ron's Reducto had to Draco's head.

**2057**

Mike intercepted the request from the DMLE for assistance from the Unspeakables. He found James Potter in front of the holding cells.

"Dammit, the man's my uncle. This is just not the way he does things." James was clearly agitated and didn't bother with any sort of greeting. "But I just can't walk into the Wizengamot and claim the Imperius Curse. That isn't the way we do things anymore. Is there a way to prove it was Imperius? Whenever we ask him , he just keeps repeating the phrase 'I've wanted to do it for years'."

Mike considered the situation. He would have to be careful; he didn't really want it discovered that it was him who had Imperiused Ron.

"I think the first thing we need to do here is to get a copy of his memory into a Pensieve and see it from his perspective. "

Once this was carried out, James and Mike entered the memory. They were at Malfoy Manor for their New Year's Eve party. As Draco entered the room, the substance of the memory started to alter. Mike, who was looking around, noticed and paused the memory.

"Look here, James, the area around Draco has sharpened. That was Ron's only focus. Look at everything else: the colours are muted, the sounds quieter. It's as if everything has gone soft focus."

They played the memory on. Ron closed in on Draco; he took out his wand and at point-blank range cast Reducto.

Mike paused the memory again. "Look around now: it's even more striking."

James did as instructed. Everything but Draco had faded into the background.

Mike let the memory play back. As soon as the spell impacted Draco, it was obvious he was dead. Brain and skull and hair splattered the wall behind him. To Mike and James, more shocking than that, was the return of sound and colour and detail to the memory.

They returned from the memory to stand before the Pensieve.

"I believe Ron was under some sort of influence other than his own," Mike began, to James's relief." I will return to the Department of Mysteries and conduct some tests for you. But I'm fairly confident you can go before the Wizengamot and tell them that Ron was not in control of himself. I'll get you my findings in the next twenty-four hours."

In the end, Ron was acquitted due to a combination of Mike's testimony and a well-paid and brilliant defence lawyer. Mike truly did like Ron; it was Draco whom he wanted dead. Besides, Harriet had taken Ron's arrest worse than Harry and Ginny's deaths. So helping to get him freed was the least he could do.

**2065**

Yes, Mike thought, it must be hard to be Scorpius. Having your father killed by your father-in-law certainly put a strain on you, and now he would be remembered as the worst Minister ever. Even Fudge hadn't lost the Ministry and Hogwarts in a single day.

Mike found Scorpio in the back room of the Leaky Cauldron. Molly Weasley III was acting as his secretary; she gestured Mike to have a seat, in the waiting room. There was a heated argument going on within the Scorpio's office. Mike was trying to judge the number of people present within the room. There were at least three present at the moment.

Mike heard Scorpius's voice clearly come through the wall.

"Susan, if you can find somewhere big enough to get the Wizengamot together, I'll hand in my resignation, but until that time, blaming each other is not going to help us."

This seemed to settle the conversation, and Mike was soon called in to deliver his report.

Waiting for him within the temporary office was Scorpius, James Potter, head of the DMLE, and Susan Finch-Fletchley, Chief Witch of the Wizengamot.

"Mike, I hope you have some good news for us," Scorpius began, his weariness plain for all to hear.

"I'm afraid not. The destruction was worse than I could begin to imagine. The explosives the Muggles used didn't appear to detonate until they had reached the dungeon levels of Hogwarts. As I'm sure you're all aware, sections of those dungeons are below the Black Lake. Well, the waters have rushed into this new channel. My team and I spent a miserable day using Bubble-Head Charms to explore the site."

"It can't surely all be underwater," Susan interjected.

"No, it isn't. Sections such as the Astronomy Tower and Gryffindor Tower are recognisable. They are the taller piles of rubble. But if it didn't flood, it burnt. If it wasn't burnt, it was just plain buried. There isn't a single room left that can be used. With the exception of the greenhouses, the gamekeeper's hut and the changing rooms for the Quidditch pitch. "

Mike watched the shock settle over the three as they tried to come to terms with what he told them.

Scorpius, head in his hands, muttered, "Oh, Merlin, I'll be lucky if they let me resign. I'll be sent to Azkaban for presiding over this."

James, more businesslike, asked, "Is the site safe?"

"From what we could determine, yes. There was some magical backlash in the first moments of the destruction, but that has all faded by now. The armchair seems friendly enough. There is a possibility of some unexploded Muggle bombs, but they all seemed to be within the exact plan of the building."

"Right." James pulled himself to his feet. "I, for one, would like to visit the site. Will you two be joining us?"

Mike smiled slightly at James's assumption that he would be going.

Susan stood too. "I guess we'd better. Come on, Scorpius. As you said, you're in charge for the time being. Until we find someone else."

The four of them apparated onto the road leading from Hogsmeade. The castle should have stood in front of them.

"Merlin!" muttered Susan. "Was there anybody in there?"

"We haven't found any bodies. We have to assume that some staff were in there, but obviously we can't get records of who called the place their full-time home," Mike answered.

Where once Hogwarts stood, there was now just a smoking pile of rubble. Some sections of stonework had been blown clear of the building, and for some reason a pink armchair frolicked on the lawns, but the blast had been focused within the castle.

"As I said, we believe they used some type of bunker buster weapon. The bomb descended through the building and didn't detonate until it was at a certain depth, or maybe it was timed. Whatever, the end result was that the primary explosions took place in the dungeons and basements of the castle. The rest of the building just collapsed in on itself. The library caught fire first, and that spread through the wood in other sections. The lake flooded in from both the boat gate and Slytherin dungeons. There were, in the first few moments, some wild magic explosions and some strange effects. Which I guess explains the armchair. But what you see is the end result."

"I can't believe it." Susan looked around, grey faced. "I was here at the Battle of Hogwarts. It barely dented it. This is total destruction. We'll never be able to rebuild. The cost would be..." She trailed off, lost in thought.

James was white-faced but kept his voice steady. "I'd like permission to send someone into the military and Scottish government and find out why they did this. Is it the start of something bigger? Do they know about us?"

Scorpius turned to him. "You're asking me? Fine, granted, but, James, send someone cautious. We don't have the resources to start Obliviating large sections of the Scottish government because we sent someone indiscreet."

Mike kept his opinion to himself. Apart from a few Imperiuses, everything had been above board. The bomb had been years in the making; the decision to turn Hogwarts into a test zone had been done through the proper channels. He had suggested the date as well; he wanted to hit Hogwarts during the summer holidays. He didn't need the deaths of a generation of children on his hands as well. If anyone in the Ministry had been paying attention, they could have spotted this and stopped it, but the Ministry was too London-centric. Scotland might have been a separate country now, but the Ministry of Magic hadn't caught up with the fact that Ireland was no longer part of the UK, never mind Scotland.

The Wizengamot finally met in Malfoy Manor a month later. The ball room had been magically extended to fit them all. While some members had failed to turn up or had been impossible to find, there were certainly more than enough of them for this to be called a quorum of the membership. With the fall of the Ministry, the floo network was down, and there was also no central list of addresses for members to consult.

Scorpius returned to his seat. The first act of this meeting was for him to announce his resignation as soon as a new Minister was chosen.

Mike watched Theseus Parkinson take to his feet. He was widely regarded as the spokesman of the traditional block within the Wizengamot.

"Would it not be better to stay at your post during this time of crisis, rather than cause our attention to be diverted by an election?"

Of course, Mike thought bitterly, a Parkinson would want a Malfoy at the helm. Scorpius returned to his feet.

"I thank the honourable gentleman for his confidence in me, although I believe him to be in a minority. To be frank, while I am an able administrator and can keep the books balanced in a normal time, this is anything but. I look at the challenges facing us as a society, and honestly I don't know where to start to begin solving them."

As Scorpius took his seat, Mike found himself on his feet waiting to be acknowledged. That admission from Scorpius must have taken considerable bravery. Susan recognised him and gestured that he could speak.

Mike suffered a slight panic as all eyes turned to him. He hated public speaking. "I'd like to thank Scorpius for that costly public admission. I'd also like to warn anyone who is thinking of applying for the Minister's role to look as honestly at themselves as Scorpius has just done. I am an Unspeakable; one of our roles is to look at the nature of things as they are and categorise them. I'm not standing for election, and I am no politician, so I see no need to be anything other than bluntly honest with this body.

"You stand at a crossroads that will forever alter this society. You can rebuild. That is an option open to you. Within ten years, another school on the scale of Hogwarts could be constructed; as well, the Ministry could be back to its former grandeur. This would lead to one major change for everyone sitting here today. You would all be broke. The gold needed to rebuild would be a colossal amount and could only come from massive taxation of everyone in society.

"The other option is to find a new course, to elect a leader not afraid to take you somewhere new. Not afraid to discard what we had before and to only take the essential and leave behind the costly. Those are the choices facing you today when you choose a new leader. Either elect someone strong enough to take all your money, or someone with a vision willing to go where we have never been before."

Mike returned to his seat, all eyes in the room upon him. Eventually Theseus creakily rose to his feet.

"I thank the Unspeakable for his blunt words, but surely he overstates the cost?"

Scorpius glanced over at Mike, winked, then rose to answer the question. "I have looked into the rebuilding costs myself and have taken some estimates. I then visited Gringotts to find out what sort of loan the Goblins would advance us. It is not a pretty thing to hear a Goblin laugh, I tell you now. It turns out the amount needed is greater than the Goblins believe the entire wealth of the Wizarding nation is. They would loan us the amount, but at such a rate of interest that your great-great-grandchildren would look at us and curse our names for agreeing to it. I'm afraid, Theseus, that Mike _under_estimated the cost. It can be done, but it would reduce us all to poverty for at least a generation."

Scorpius took his seat and Mike looked out at the faces of the elite of society. The members of the conservative block were also the ones with the most personal wealth. It was a stark choice facing them and they shifted uneasily in their seats.

Susan took to her feet and banged her gavel to call attention to herself. "I shall now call a recess for an hour. We shall resume again to take any urgent questions from the body. Scorpius and I shall do our best to answer your queries, as well as any relevant departmental heads. After that, I will judge the mood of the meeting. We may take nominations for a new Minister then, or we may recess again. But I urge you to consider the words of the honourable Parkinson: we are in a time of crisis and we need to find our way out of it rather than spend weeks bogged down in an election debate.

"Scorpius has allowed us the use of his grounds and house. If you wish to leave, please use the apparation points. While the wards are not at full strength, I wouldn't recommend apparating from anywhere else."

The members of the Wizengamot drifted apart, and then smaller groups reformed to discuss the information and start political manoeuvring. Mike watched them with contempt. Still trying to find the best deal for themselves and save their positions. After a moment, he noticed Scorpius had sat next to him.

"I never knew you wanted my job." Scorpius leaned in as he spoke to Mike, keeping his voice low.

"What are you talking about? I've never wanted the job." Mike struggled to keep his voice low.

"Maybe you haven't, but one thing I know is that there are some people here you don't want to have it. Some, it would be a disaster if they got it.

"Let's be blunt here, Mike. We sit on the brink of a disaster, which, if some people get my old job, will only get worse. This society needs new ideas and a fresh vision. You're the closest thing to an outsider we've got. Muggle-born, member of the Unspeakables. Free from any political taint. You're also, by marriage at least, a member of a long-established family, so that will soften the blow to the traditionalists. You've got an hour to think of a political platform, because I'm going to nominate you when the session starts. "

Scorpius got up and left. Mike sat staring at his back in shock. There was one thing certain: Mike had not gone through all he had to allow the traditionalists to take control. He barely noticed when Susan joined him.

"You're as white as a sheet there, Mike. What is your problem?"

"Scorpius just told me he plans to nominate me."

"Good luck. You'll need it. I also think you'll win it if you can come up with even a germ of an idea that is fresh and doesn't involve taking away everyone's money. Think about it." So saying, she left him to sit alone.

Was this what he wanted? He was a killer and had destroyed the society he felt was rotten to its core. Could he rebuild it? Would it be possible? He had never wanted to rule. His campaign had never been based on a desire to conquer. Still, the option was in front of him. He would at least put his vision to the vote.

An hour later, after Scorpius had nominated him and it was duly seconded, he rose to his feet.

"If you can cast your minds back an hour or so ago to when I gave my assessment of the situation, I stated I was not a politician and had no intention of standing. Not long after that, Scorpius told me he planned to nominate me, so I've had that long to come up with a political platform.

"I am still not a politician, so I will present my ideas before you and then you can choose to accept them or reject them as you wish.

"I believe the first question that has to be asked is, 'what is the purpose of the Ministry and the Minister?'

"Quite simple. The whole purpose – in fact, its reason for existing – is to ensure that the Statute of Secrecy is enforced. All our laws should flow from that. Everything else that the Ministry does is just pointlessness and job creation. There were documents written on the thickness of cauldron bottoms. Why? What business is that of government?

"I worked as an Unspeakable. I was paid to look into things that the wizard on the street should not know about. Why? Who made the decision that such knowledge was only for a select few?

"Too often, this body has brought in new laws or allowed the Minister to make decisions which have only been to its own benefit. I believe that society has stagnated as a result.

"In four years' time, the Muggles will be celebrating the centennial of putting a man on the moon. The President of America who made that decision, to send a man to the moon, had two quotes attributed to him.

"Some people look at things and ask why. I dare to dream and ask, 'why not?'

"Also, we chose to do these things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard.

"If you elect me, then I tell you, you will find I will not take you back to where you used to be. I will not rebuild, but build new.

"I will build us a new school. It won't be Hogwarts. I hope for it to be better. Yes, it will cost, but it will be worth it.

"The Ministry will never be rebuilt as it was. It will be stripped down to the bone. Adult wizards will be treated as adults.

"Department of Sports? What business is that of government? Got anti-Muggle charms on your stadiums? Fine, govern yourself.

"That will be my underlying role: the question I ask before the Ministry does anything. Can people not govern themselves? This will not be lawlessness I'm advocating, though. The DMLE will stay; we will not allow casual murders on the street and, of course, if you are endangering the Statute of Secrecy, then expect to have Aurors knocking at your door.

"Somewhere out there is the plotter or maybe organisation that has brought us to this place. It was not an accident that saw Hogwarts and the Ministry destroyed within twenty-four hours of each other.

"I don't believe the person behind that will be simply happy to destroy and retreat to the shadows. I believe even now, as we are weakest and in this period of chaos, they are preparing their bid for power.

"So, as Minister, I will rebuild our education services. I will push this society to new and greater heights. I will allow responsible adults to be responsible. I will keep the Aurors strong for those who believe personal freedom allows them to take others' freedom away from them. That is my vision. I hope it can be yours.

"Thank you."

Mike took his seat, first to silence, then to a tsunami of applause that swept over the room. He politely nodded, noticing who clapped and with how much enthusiasm .It did seem that he had gotten the balance of the room.

After the room quieted, Percy Weasley stood to nominate James Potter.

James rose to face the body. "Thank you for the nomination, Uncle Percy, but I don't want the job. It is without modesty that I can look at myself and say I'm a damned good head of the DMLE and, frankly, I can't think of anyone I want to replace me. While the new Minister needs to be an innovator, the head of the DMLE at this time, and with such a threat as we face, still hiding in the shadows, needs to be strong and competent. That's me. While at one time I may have had the ambition to succeed Scorpius, we need someone with the sort of vision that Mike has shown he has. This is not the time for solid, but for a visionary."

James returned to his seat to stunned silence. It was unheard of for someone to turn down a nomination for first minister.

Susan Finch-Fletchley took to her feet. "Do we have any other nominations?"

Blaise Zabini after some nudging rose to speak. "Could we have a recess, please?"

When the meeting was again called to order, the traditionalists put forward a nomination of Theodore Nott. His speech focused on stability and not getting carried away with the idea of throwing out the old for the sake of appearing modern.

When Susan called the vote, Mike took over seventy five percent of the room. Scorpius was one of the first to congratulate him.

Later, he sat alone in Scorpius's borrowed office, a glass of Firewhiskey in his hand.

_So I've killed and destroyed, committed unforgiveable crimes and won a democratic (of sorts) election. Now I rule. I'm Minister of Magic, without a Ministry to balance my moves, to build this society just as I want it. _

_I guess this makes me a Dark Lord. Let's hope James never finds out._

**A.N.**

This is a self contained little piece. Which ends here.

I may at some point in the future return to this world either to flesh out some of the ideas I've skimmed over, or to write an epilogue.

Will Mike get away with it? Will James find out?

I could have easily written 100k+ words set in this world. My notes have many deleted scenes which fell by the wayside because I just wanted to push on with a single narrative. Portia's older brother is a much more sympathetic character than her.

Some readers will be pleased to know I've had a rush of ideas for Snorckack. But since it took me almost 2 months to plot and write this, it should be obvious I'm not turning out 5k words a week anymore.

Thanks again for Jedi Goat casting her strange, force like powers over this and sorting out my scatter gun approach to punctuation.


End file.
